


It's all in the dance

by Eveliiina



Category: Hairspray (2007)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-25
Updated: 2017-03-25
Packaged: 2018-10-10 15:22:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10440819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eveliiina/pseuds/Eveliiina
Summary: Link knows he screwed up - he knows what he said had been a mistake.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I get that nobody really writes fics about Hairspray in 2017 anymore, but I just watched that movie like five times this week and became obsessed once again. As a result, here is my little one shot that I wrote at two in the morning. So please - enjoy.
> 
> Also, not a native English-speaker here, so I'm pretty sure there are mistakes. Just a warning.

Link had known, from the moment he had laid his eyes on her in detention, that she was going to be turning his life upside down, one twist at a time. With her big hair, plaid skirts and the smiles she always threw in his way; he was a goner.

He had everything a teenage boy could wish for; a beautiful, blonde arm candy always at his side, the title of a teenage heartthrob and more friends than you could count with two hands. But all of that meant nothing to him when he saw Tracy swirl around during the Corny Collins show or when he caught her smiling at him in school.

He wasn’t stupid, nor blind – he knew that Tracy wasn’t the kind of girl most guys would lose their socks over. She wasn’t all proper and prim; she definitely wasn’t the quiet sort, and she wasn’t skinny and frail like most girls he’d met. But that’s precisely why he was so infatuated by her.

She was a rebel, the voice for the voiceless. Always trying to help those in need, never complaining about her own problems. She was strong and sassy, and didn’t care what others thought about her. She was the kindest person he had ever met; never did she truly think ill of anyone, even the people who constantly made fun of her. She was passionate and enthusiastic. And her body… Link knew that by society’s standards, he should be attracted to thin girls with delicate features – and he was – but there was just something about the soft-looking curves that Tracy had, and the way she would shake her bottom while dancing, that drove him absolutely wild.

He felt guilty thinking such improper thoughts about her, especially since he did already have a girlfriend. But he also knew that he didn’t really care about Amber. Sure, she was pretty and any fella at his school would probably trade their soul to be in his place, but that was all she really was. She didn’t have a kind personality like Tracy; she could be very cruel and selfish, no doubt a trait she had learned from her mother. She cared way too much about what others thought of her – though Link knew he was being a hypocrite, as he always tried to maintain his own ”cool” image with any cost. But he was slowly changing, and that was all because of Tracy. 

And it wasn’t like Amber even cared about him either. Link was very well aware that she wouldn’t have even looked in his way if he wasn’t one of the leads in the Corny Collins show and a sure way for her to rise to the top with his help.

Tracy, on the other hand - she seemed to really care about him. Sure, he could see that just like most of Baltimore’s female population, she too appreciated his looks and swooned over his crooner image. But he also knew that that wasn’t all she saw in him. He didn’t need to act on his image when he was with her - she didn’t care if his hair was always perfect or if he always said the right things - she allowed him to just be himself and relax. That’s something he definitely couldn’t do with Amber; for her, image was everything.

But Link knew he had screwed things up. He had hurt Tracy with his comment earlier. Even though he hadn’t meant it in the way that she had interpreted his words, he still felt guilty. And also because he knew - he knew she was right. Marching was what he should be doing right now, instead of wallowing in self-pity in his empty house. 

But he was too much of a coward. And he needed to be at the pageant tomorrow - it was his only shot. There were gonna be agents, and they were going to see him dancing, giving it his all, showing that he was good enough for bigger things. He was also going to be dancing with Amber. She would want to display their relationship during the live show - “save your personal life for the cameras”; Velma von Tussles’ words came into his mind. But that wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted to dance tomorrow, just not with Amber.

He wanted to dance with Tracy.

Dancing with Tracy, he was sure, would be amazing. The agents would definitely pick them both, because he knew that when dancing with her, he was also at his best. With Amber, every move would be calculated, rehearsed and forced out of his body. But when he danced with Tracy, he didn’t need rehearsing. He didn’t even need to think. The moves came to him naturally. It was like they were linked together and they both knew exactly how to move in harmony together, without any practice.

That’s what he wanted to do; what he wanted to show. His best asset:

Tracy Turnblad.

But that was the one thing he couldn’t do. Because he had messed up. Right now, she was out there, marching for what’s right, fearless of what that would mean for her future in the show. And he was hiding in his house, too afraid to lose that future.

Link sighed and groaned in his pillow. He reluctantly got up from his bed and headed towards the kitchen. He drank a glass of water, feeling that his earlier crying - which no one was to ever know about - had drained half of the water inside of him. 

He walked in the living room, plopped down on the couch, and laid on his back with his hand in front of his eyes. He blindly took the remote that was on top of the coffee table and put the TV on as background noise.

He laid there for a awhile, only the voice of the newscaster on the TV keeping him company. He was about to get up and go back to his room after a few minutes, but as he sat back up, he heard a familiar name being said by the newscaster, making him freeze in his place. 

“That’s right, Tracy Turnblad, the newest addition to the popular Corny Collins show, was witnessed savagely bludgeoning an Eagle scout. She fled the scene, and is now on the run…”

“Trace…” he whispered quietly, not believing his ears.

Turning the TV off, he practically jumped up from the couch and ran towards his door. He was going to find her. There was no way that she had done what that blasted newscaster had said, but for whatever had happened, she was now on the run from the law. This was his chance to make things right. He was going to find her, help her and apologize for what had happened. He was going to help her get into the pageant and they would finally dance together. 

\---

She looked amazing; beautiful, truly. When she had told him her plan over the phone while he’d been at the Turnblad’s residence, he couldn’t have imagined it actually working. But here she was, in the flesh, dancing and singing - with him. And it was better than he could’ve ever dreamed of. 

Everything was going so well. Velma had been busted, Penny and Seaweed were dancing together happily - an interracial couple on live TV - they were practically making history! Tracy’s mom had danced on the stage too, which had been fantastic. And little Inez had won the pageant! It was all almost too good to be true. Almost.

He was dancing with Tracy, surrounded by their friends and family doing the same, while the audience looked as pleased as ever.

“Link, I don’t know what to say…” Tracy sighed as she looked up at him. He knew she was referring to everything that had just happened, but also to them - to him breaking it off with Amber, to them kissing...

Link didn’t really know how to answer, so they just kept dancing.

Though they weren’t just dancing – the sensual moves they made with their bodies and the singing in the background that tickled their ears as they glided on the floor – it was so much more intimate, than their usual dancing. The way his hands had dared to travel along her body, almost to the edge of her checkerboard dress, and the way her hands were wrapped around his neck, almost touching some of the strands of hair that had freed themselves from the clutches of hairspray, and their feet tapping to the beat of the music; it was art.

He twirled her in the air, tipped her down and almost like they were floating, backed her on the edge of the dance floor. The people watching them almost felt like they were intruding in a much more… private act. Her hair whipped and his blue eyes twinkled as he looked upon her – there was nothing more to say.

It was all in the dance.


End file.
